Frightening Mysteries
by jackalope21
Summary: Magic runs rampant in the Scottish Highlands...
1. Chapter 1

**Just something I'm toying with. Let me know what you think. **

**Outlander**

The air was crisp and fresh, things Claire hadn't been accustomed to in a great while. The war had all but tarnished her sense of smell forever. It was still littered with the stench of death, gunpowder and burning. Whether it be homes, vehicles or bodies licked by fire, the stench of burning was ever present. Even without the war, the Industrial Revolution ensured that the air in her time would never be completely clean again, always dotted with soot and exhaust. But here, in the Highlands, the air was clean.

She still found the people, sounds and sights odd, but for some reason the scent of the air stuck with her as much as the intense silence. There was no 'white noise' anymore. She didn't wake to the sound of dogs barking, people yelling, gunfire, screams or the random car horn. While most would find everything about the untouched land she found herself in calming and soothing even, it put Claire on end. After years of what was known as the Second World War, anything lacking chaos was off.

And she didn't even want to indulge her anger with the corsets…

But, despite the strange and uncomfortable, she was able to see the beauty in Scotland. It truly was a sight to behold and while her mind was littered with so many other thoughts, she could at least admire that.

Her feet still hadn't grown comfortable with the delicate, tanned leather shoes she'd been given. The souls were incredibly thin giving her feet every hint of something beneath her step. After a rather nasty pebble found its way into the most perfect of spots in her insole, Claire decided a break was needed. With her ever present shadow, she made her way to the thick grass just outside the castle's high walls. It wasn't much, but at least the chances of feeling something stab her feet was slim. Honestly, she might as well be barefoot.

Fluffing out her dress, Claire sank comfortably into the plush flora. The green stretched for as long as her eyes could gaze. Seas of it, rich, thick and soft, touched everything within sight. It spread along the grounds, clung to the sides of rocks and climbed up the thick trunks of the nearest trees. And when the wind blew, the grass would sway gently as though it was dancing. It was such a sight, she felt like it could have been just for her, like nature itself was trying to give her something calm and beautiful to look at and distract her mind. She was grateful, for the moment, until the sounds of thunder met her ears.

The men perched high above in their towers built with rickety wood perked instantly. Claire sat straight up and watched with her eyes peeled. To her untrained ear, it sounded as though a storm was coming even though the sky was blue. Being English however, Claire was accustomed to the strange comings and goings of autumn rains. This was not that. She knew the guards wouldn't be on edge if it were a storm.

Soon the thunder grew louder and she began to feel it rumbling through her feet. It climbed up her limbs until her very bones rattled within her body. But, just as she thought they may shake loose her very structure, the source appeared.

Great horses –larger than any she'd ever seen in person- burst through the tree line nearby. They charged forward with authority and purpose as they sailed over the beaten pathway. Five in total flew by her and if she hadn't felt each hoof pound into the Earth, Claire would have sworn they flew.

They bounded passed her as though she was nothing more than another boulder or rock jutting from the ground. She didn't garner even a second glance as the black steeds galloped by with their riders clad in robes and hidden from view.

Claire vaguely remembered Angus coming to her side and grabbing her arm as he hoisted her to his feet. She seemed too entranced by the scene to put up her usual fight when being ordered about. With his guide, her feet found themselves and soon she traveled back into the castle walls through the very gateway the horses had disappeared.

"What's happening?" she asked just before the steeds along with their mounts came into view again. "Who are those people?"

"No one ye nee' be worried 'bout." He hissed under his breath. "Come on now woman."

She scowled at his comments as she usually did, but he didn't notice. She hated being referred to in such a derogatory way and he knew it, he just didn't care. Whoever the strangers were, everyone seemed to be mixed with an odd assortment of emotions. From what Claire could gather, it was a combination of recognition followed shortly by intense trepidation.

Hushed whispers echoed through the courtyard to the point it was nearly deafening. It made her want to shield her ears, but strain to hear the whispers at the same time. Finally, once they reached the entrance to the castle, Angus relented his hold and Claire was finally given the chance to stand on her own. As though to show her irritation with him, she batted as her dress to straighten the nonexistent wrinkles his sharp contact had incurred. The haughty action ended quickly however, when some braves souls approached the silent riders.

Not surprising, Dougal was among them. He approached the riders apprehensively –which was odd for such an imposing man- but she assumed it could have been more because of the horses than the riders. The great black beasts hadn't calmed since stopping. They still stomped and moved in their place as though they sensed something 'wrong' in the air, something ominous that escaped their human counterparts. Then again, it could have just as easily been because the large Chief stood shoulder to shoulder with the animals. With something to use as scale, Claire was suddenly aware of just how frighteningly and unusually large the animals were.

Dougal spoke to the lead rider in relatively hushed tones that could only be heard by those closest to the conversation. The rider he spoke with replied in the same Gaelic everyone used. Her curiosity grew. Slowly, and without her silent chaperone, Claire slipped away from Angus's side and closer to the conversation being held. She didn't care what they said, nor would she have been able to understand it, but she wanted to catch a glimpse of the mysterious riders that made nearly half the village shift.

Her feet fell into the soft earth as she crept ever closer. She only had to move a few more feet to see the faces hidden beneath the hoods. Just a bit further… but it never came. Claire's steps stopped immediately when she was confronted with the black emptiness that should have been a face. The riders held nothing in the ways of one. Instead, a black veil covered everything that otherwise would have identified them as individuals. As it was, they were a small hoard of faceless, nameless creatures in black robes riding monstrous creatures with the same ebony coats. It was as though Death itself had ridden onto the castle grounds and some of the villagers seemed to sense it.

Dougal finished speaking to the lead rider. Unaware she was staring; Claire had slipped into her own world. Her mind swirled with vivid imagery. Every Death icon she'd ever been exposed to swam into her mind at once and flooded her with a mixture of feelings. Her apprehension showed no sign of ebbing and only grew worse when her gawking was discovered. The one who'd been speaking to Dougal turned its attention to her. Even through the blackout face, Claire knew whoever –whatever- dwelled within the thick, dusty fabric, was looking right at her and it chilled her blood. Her breath hitched and she swore she felt someone walk over her grave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Been a long while. I might be picking this up for a few chapters. I've just finished watching season 2 (whoa, by the way) and I think I've gotten my second wind. Let me know what you think!**

**Chapter 2**

The majority of the village gathered in the Great Hall to see the strangers presented to the Lord. Even though Claire was used to the ceremonial aspect of her English heritage, she was surprised to see it was even more common in this time. It seemed no matter what, anyone worth anything was immediately presented in some formal fashion.

She stood to the side, hidden amongst the rabble and hopefully invisible. Somehow, Jamie always managed to find her though. She wondered if he didn't have a sixth sense as to her location. As it was, the young man slipped easily through the gathered crowd and soon stood just behind her shoulder the moment before bagpipes announced his uncle's coming.

"What's going on?" she whispered as she watched the crippled man saunter uncomfortably toward his seat. "Who were those people in the courtyard?"

A knowing smirk graced his lips. She found it a bit annoying, but knew the likelihood of hearing an answer was all but assured when she spoke to Jamie. Before a word was uttered however, rustling fabric sounded loudly. Attention shifted and again Claire was presented with the mysterious figures in black.

Their heavy robes swayed with each step. It was draped over their bodies in such a way it made them look as though they were floating over the stone floor. The tapestry-dense fabric alluded to nothing in the ways of bodily shape and that coupled with their veiled faces ensured their spectral appearance. The chill returned to Claire's neck. She touched the rising hairs on the nape of her neck, but attempted to shield the action from those around her. Jamie noticed and it caused him to smirk. He remembered that brief fear when he first saw the figures too, but it was soon outweighed by boyhood curiosity. She'd feel the same too soon, he was sure of it.

They walked in unison and with formation which seemed odd to Claire. Two led the way and two followed. All four surrounded one central figure nestled between them. Without sitting atop their impressive horses, Claire was finally given some insight into their true sizes. The four surrounding the one in the center were tall, broad and likely male. While she wasn't certain the one in the center was female, its narrower and shorter frame told her it might be so.

The specters glided along the cold grey floor and towards Colum with as much purpose as they'd ridden to the castle. They didn't falter or bother with a diverted gaze. Whatever the reason for the visit, it seemed important.

When they reached Colum, it became more of a dance than a Death March. The two figures in the lead spilt away from formation when they came to the dais. Each took their respective sides followed shortly by the two in the back. Yet again, the dainty 'ghost' remained in the center. With practiced steps, they broke apart and stood before the Lord in a single line of five as though ensuring Colum could see each of them equally. Together, they bowed to the leader of the land and once they received a head nod in return, they stood.

"They're 'ealers." Jamie finally whispered. He'd been as entranced by the stranger's 'ballet' as everyone else, but his strange phrase caught Claire's immediate attention.

"Healers?" she asked in surprise. Jamie noticed her staring at him out of the corner of his eye and tore his gaze from the scene to meet her curious stare. "Like me? Colum said there were no others."

Claire found herself growing angry, dismissing the strange atmosphere entirely in exchange for her irritation. Part of the reason she'd been forced to remain was because there were no others to do her job, and now she was told there was not only one, but five in total.

"No," Jamie replied. He still wore the impish grin that only exaggerated his handsome features. "Some say they're witches, others druids. I've even heard tell tha' one there," he pointed to the smallest amongst them. "Is s'posed to be Sirona 'erself."

Claire's brows slowly pulled together. Being a nurse, she knew a bit about the mythology behind healing deities and spirits. She knew most of the Greek and Roman and a few Egyptian and the like, but she was sketchy on Celtic mythos. Still, Claire knew Sirnoa must have been a healing goddess considering the conversation, though she was amazed Jamie and the others seemed to compare the figure in black to the goddess. She was old even by eighteenth century standards.

"Back in tha ol' times," he continued. Claire had to fight the immediate desire to scoff or roll her eyes at the term 'old times' and listened quietly. "She's a Goddess of healin' an' the like. They come 'ere once a year."

"Every year?" she asked. Jamie nodded. He kept listening, but divided his attention between Claire and the conversation his uncle was having with the mystics. "For how long?"

"Long as I can remember."

She nodded slowly as the information began to settle within her mind. Claire turned her eyes back to the beings in black. She expected the overly religious atmosphere she'd been thrust into, but even among the talks of fairies and devils, she found it odd a stern Catholic land so freely invite possible witches into their midst.

"And," Claire whispered. She'd lost interest in the distant conversation when it became clear they never planned to use English. "They're always dressed like that, in those cloaks I mean."

"Aye."

"But… how are you certain they aren't spies?" she asked to her own surprise. Claire wasn't certain what prompted the odd question, but it seemed valid given the era she was in and the constant accusations thrust in her direction. "Couldn't they be Red Coats beneath the robes?"

"Doubt it." Jamie freely answered without the slightest hint of concern. "They don' no wear them in private." His answer caused more questions to rise and she wasn't certain why. "Jus' so long as their 'round the public."

"How would you know?"

For the first time in awhile, Claire noticed Jamie shift. His eyes darted around and found no focus and if she had to guess, Claire was sure she'd embarrassed him. A smirk began to tug at her lips. Despite his imposing size, Jamie so easily could take the appearance of an innocent boy.

"How do you know?" she pressed with a more leading tone.

A pale pink hue that otherwise would have gone unnoticed if Claire's eyes hadn't adjusted to the dim candlelight began to take hold of his cheeks.

"Were you peeking?" she continued to tease and Jamie continued to squirm. "You did, didn't you?" she giggled.

"Jus' the once." He defended suddenly. "I's jus' a wee lad. Ca'no blame for tha'."

Claire mused over his reaction. She giggled and nudged his shoulder lightly with her own to silently tell him she wasn't accusing him of indecency, only teasing. He relaxed, but the hint of a blush remained.

"Well?" she asked after he remained silent for a moment. "What'd you see?"

"Tha' one there, in the middle, tha's a lady. I did'no see her face too well, but she looked…" Jamie hesitated. Claire turned herself enough to better see him and silently urged he continue. His blush turned just a bit brighter than before.

"She looked like what?" Claire asked with just a hint of teasing masked within her own curiosity.

"She looked…" he hesitated again. Eventually he figured he might as well spit it out rather than keep fumbling over his words. "She looked a bit like a fairy would."

"A fairy." Claire repeated in a deadpan voice laced with skepticism.

"Aye." Jamie nodded. "Glowin' skin and eyes. Like what ye hear tell fairies look like."

Claire wanted to keep teasing him for the mystical description, but she decided against it. After all, He'd only been just a boy when he first spied the figure in black. So she pressed passed it.

"And the others?"

"Those four blokes are her protection."

"Body guards?"

He gave her a questioning stare which Claire simply waved off. She sometimes forgot that her particular phrases were simply not invented yet.

"What is it they do then, exactly?"

"Every year, they come back an' bless Colum for another year o' health."

Claire tried to not to emote her skepticism. Her eyes fell again to Colum's legs. She wondered briefly if they truly thought the so-called mystic was actually successful in her blessings. She didn't begrudge him the use of every possible thing he could think to employ, from priests to otherwise, but she was surprised and maintained her doubt.

In the distance, the bagpipes began again and Claire was aware of how much time had passed during her conversation with Jamie. Colum stood and with his heavy, painful steps, exited the hall with the five strangers at his heels in their now familiar formation. They were gone quickly from sight and shortly after the rest of the audience began to dissipate.

"Now what?" she asked when Jamie was ready to leave like the others. When he turned, it was clear he didn't understand the question. He was prepared to tell her he had to tend to the mystics' horses, but she cut him off before he had the chance. "With them, what now? Are they going to magically heal Colum, or?"

Jamie shook his head sadly. He knew there was nothing anyone could truly do for Colum just as easily as Claire did. She was at least grateful the young man wasn't as superstitious as his Highland brethren.

"They give 'im another year," was all he said before turning to leave.

Claire didn't have the heart to stop him a second time when she saw the sadness in his eyes.

Standing on her own, Claire found herself wondering if there wasn't something more to the magical strangers. Healers –both mystical and physical- were well documented through history. They catered to what the people of the time believed and served a purpose. And even while she tended towards the modern and practical, Claire found herself wondering if there wasn't something 'magical' being done. After all, the Lord was the oldest person she'd ever heard of to live with his disease.

A glance to the corner confirmed one of her ever present shadows hadn't left with the rest. She sighed, rolled her eyes and waved for him to follow her into the surgery.

~!~

Claire lost count of the hours that passed while she busied herself within the bowels of the castle. She pushed things aside, continued to search through the unneeded, and organize that hazard left in the previous doctor's wake. It was tiresome, but gave her something to do while she thought about her escape.

The sound of footsteps drawing near was nothing new and didn't merit a glance in their direction. She was in the process of lifting a cumbersome basket onto a high shelf when her visitors appeared. It wasn't that the object was heavy, only oddly shaped, and dominated her attention instead of those who'd come to visit while her back was turned.

As she used her fingertips to push the wicker basket the last few inches needed for it to be secured on the shelf when she heard Rupert mutter something in Gaelic. It was low, hushed and not meant to be heard by anyone else which she thought odd enough it deserved a glance. She turned in time to see the clansman forming the cross over himself and the source not too far from him. Following his terrified gaze, Claire saw one of the spectral figures from the Great Hall in her surgery.

Her blood ran cold again. The figure swayed gently as it glided through the space, examining everything and seemingly ignorant to anyone who might be watching. Her mouth fell slack and soon Claire shared Rupert's mild fear. She wasn't sure why, but seeing one so close and in her second home put the otherwise intelligent and practical Englishwoman on edge.

The room fell deathly silent. Claire slowly began to step closer to Rupert, as though he would protect her from one she was already told healed others and didn't harm. Her rational mind was aware of that difference, and her rational mind seemed to be on a bit of a holiday at that moment.

The figure continued to move through the area. It wove effortlessly through the tables, chairs and bookshelves that darted the floor plan. The robes made the softest noise as it brushed the stone, but nothing else dare make a sound. The figure was all the more daunting when it was so close. To add to her discomfort, Claire wasn't sure which figure she was presented with. She didn't know if it was male or female and given her history with the men of this time, Claire was understandably disturbed. They held no shape of any kind making them all the more ambiguous. Claire didn't even have the luxury of the female wearing a typical dress beneath her robes. Anything that could have been used as identification of any kind was removed, including the bumps caused by a typical bustle. Ambiguity seemed primary.

The shapeless, shadowy figure that haunted the nightmares of even the bravest men finally seemed to have consumed everything the office space had to offer and finally looked up at the only other inhabitants. Rupert again began to mutter something in his native tongue under his breath and Claire had the distinct suspicion it was a prayer of some sort. She briefly wished she knew one of her own, a feeling that grew when the figure advanced on them both.

The ghost finally came to a halt a few feet from the two. When its invisible gaze fell to Claire, the coldness returned but this time clutched her chest.

"Are ye the Sassenach?" a soft, feminine voice asked from beneath the veil.

The tone was so unexpected it took Claire a moment to realize she was the one being address. The terrifying figure seemed to conceal the woman. Her voice was delicate and dulcet and spoken so softly it may have been considered a whisper if it wasn't so easily heard. Even her accent seemed sweet and not as hard as the others around her.

"Yes." Claire finally answered when her faculties returned. "Claire Beacham."

She offered her hand to the specter, though why she wasn't sure. It seemed the thing to do. Surprisingly enough, the specter returned the gesture and with a glove covered hand greeted her kindly.

"And you are?"

"I have no name." she answered in the same wispy voice.

Claire either couldn't hide her surprise or didn't bother. Whichever the reason, she stared openly at the figure in black and the words simply flowed.

"No name. No face. Is there anything that is yours?"

Rupert looked at her in horror, ready to chastise the stupid Englishwoman for taunting someone who 'communed with the unnatural spirits', but Claire seemed to realize her words came across more judging than she meant immediately.

"Does my veil offend?"

"I'm not accustomed to speaking with someone whose face I cannot see." She said openly. Being given the chance, Claire decided she might as well speak her mind.

The figure nodded. With a delicate touch, her gloved fingers rose to the lip of her hood. Beneath its hem were a few small ties that had remained hidden from view, but were now clear once attention had been drawn. She tugged gently on the one to the high left corner of the hood and untied it easily. The same actions were repeated to the bow at the center and then the far right. Soon, the veil tumbled forward, but only marginally. Another set of strings on either side near her ears kept it from opening completely and in turn only revealed her eyes. Her eyes were enough. Suddenly Jamie's description of the 'fairy' in black seemed a fitting one.

Brilliant, beautiful and almost unnatural golden eyes peered through long black lashes. They adorned a porcelain canvas though it didn't surprise Claire that someone who spent their life wearing robes would have a complexion as fair as her own. But there was nothing else. The two bows on either side of her face prevented anything else from being visible. Claire wondered briefly why there were so many only to decide it was practical of the age. To keep ones face completely shielded, perhaps a system of ties that surrounded their face was the best way.

"The Laird has requested you accompany me." She said.

"Of course." Claire muttered in a voice foreign to even herself.

With a respectful bow of the head, the ghostly woman left the surgery to presumably return to the Lord's chamber.


End file.
